


Life Drawing

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Art College [2]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of the open-ended Art College AU, in which Arnold takes a life drawing class and gets to see rather more of his roommate than he would've liked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Drawing

**Author's Note:**

> Red Dwarf characters belong to Grant Naylor Productions and the BBC.
> 
> Dedicated to Ver, Nat, Caz, Fia, and Bitsy. Always and always.
> 
> * * *

Arnold was taking Life Drawing as one of his rare subjects that wasn’t mostly theory. He liked the contrast to the stark straight lines of Technical Drawing, and of course it didn’t hurt to be able to  stare at a naked woman for a couple of hours. Besides, much to his surprise, he wasn’t too bad at it, maybe because his pencil traced the lines on the paper as accurately as his eyes traced every curve of the model in front of him.

When the instructor came into class one day and announced that they were moving on to a male model, he was disappointed at first. But when Dave walked casually out from behind the screen completely smegging naked and took up his place in front of the class, he was _mortified_. Did his roommate have no shame? No, at this point in the semester it was more likely he just had no money.

Dave caught his eye and winked. Arnold refused to wink back, pulled out a clean sheet of paper, and... didn’t know where to start drawing. Most of the women in the class were already scribbling away industriously, some of them were doing more staring than drawing, and Frankie Todhunter was definitely staring.

Arnold supposed there was plenty to stare at, in more ways than one, if you were that way inclined. Where the female model had been all curves and softness, Dave’s body was all hard lines, except for a little roundness about the tummy. One line in particular was growing harder... oh dear.

‘Mr Lister, please try not to move.’ The instructor looked wry, as though this happened all the time.

‘Sorry, man.’ Dave glanced down his body. ‘He’s got a life of his own.’ There was a ripple of laughter through the room, and then the industrious sound of pencils on paper.

Arnold took a deep breath and got started with his own drawing, working on Dave’s upper body first. Looking at him as intently as he had to, he noticed that Dave’s tummy seemed to be the last remnants of childhood chubbiness; there was a certain roundness to parts of his chest that spoke of weight lost fairly recently. His nipples stood out dark against his skin; by contrast, the hand he’d propped up his head with still had pale clay grimed into his fingers, leaving tiny smears of white on his hair. He kept blinking, which was hardly surprising; the class had begun at ten o’clock and Dave rarely got out of bed before noon, even when he had classes to attend over at saTECH, sARTurn’s sister school on Telesto. Arnold was surprised that he didn’t yawn – and right then, Dave did yawn, drawing another admonition from the instructor.

They’d been living together for six weeks now, but Arnold had never seen him like this. He’d seen him with a towel slung around his waist, threatening to fall; he’d seen him struggling to do up his jeans over his boxers, cursing as a bit of fabric got caught in the zip; he’d seen him in just the boxers, which were what passed for pyjamas for him. But he had not seen Dave like this, so unashamedly naked and so unabashedly aroused. He wondered for a moment what had turned the man on so much; was he some sort of exhibitionist? Did he like everyone’s eyes on him? Or was he just thinking about which of the girls he might invite back to the room after the class was finished?

After forty-five minutes he was almost done with the first half of his drawing, his eyes growing tired from flicking back and forth between Dave and the paper. Hopefully Dave wouldn’t ask to see his work after the class was done. He had the feeling he hadn’t done very well on the eyes, since Dave kept blinking. It was a shame they were only working in graphite pencil and not in colour. He could imagine the array of browns he’d need: the chocolate brown of his irises, the lighter brown of his skin, and the almost-black of his hair.

Arnold lifted his head, rolling it a little, listening to his neck crackle, and finally turned his eyes back to Dave’s lower half. He wasn’t quite so aroused as he had been; forty-five minutes of staying so still would doubtless have that effect on anyone. He quickly sketched in the lines of his hips and thighs, and then stole a glance at the work of the girl beside him. She evidently had no qualms about genitalia; in fact it seemed she’d put a good deal of work into that particular area.

He looked back up, absently licking the end of his pencil. Dave caught his eye again but didn’t wink this time; he really was trying to behave himself. Trying to, anyway. As he’d said, his cock had a mind of its own, and it was hardening again. Arnold felt his face going red and turned his attention to Dave’s knees. Nobody could expect him to try and sketch a moving target, after all.

Knees, calves, ankles, feet. Eventually he could put it off no longer and had to look at Dave’s groin. Considering he’d seen Dave in just his boxers, he was surprised he’d never realised before just how much the man was packing in his joy department, but then again he hadn’t exactly been making a point of looking. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly going to get good grades if he censored out the bits he didn’t want to look at. And he couldn’t do a rushed job when he’d been so careful with everything else.

It was almost twelve o’clock. Arnold sighed and got on with the drawing, telling himself, _It’s just another body part, you have one too, finish the drawing and then it’ll be done_. Trying to block out the memory of the different poses the female model had done; trying not to imagine Dave in them, or to think about the fact that he’d probably be back in here for the next class.

At last the clock ticked over to twelve. Arnold gathered his things and got up. He noticed that not everyone was being as quick to move as he was, including Dave, who took his time getting up and sauntering back behind the changing screen. Arnold took the opportunity to duck out of the classroom. With any luck, he’d get out of sight before Dave came out.

No such luck. Dave caught up with him on his way back to their room. ‘So, Arn, what’d you think?’

‘What did I think of _what_? Your latest scheme to raise money? I thought being a survey subject for the psychology students was the lowest you were going to stoop.’

Dave just laughed.

They walked side by side across the perfectly terraformed green grass. There was a gentle breeze blowing, just enough to ruffle the leaves on the trees. Several students were picnicking on the grass, as classes were rarely scheduled between twelve and one to give everyone a break. Dave waved to nearly everyone; Arnold saw a few familiar faces and waved as well. He was gradually getting the hang of being a student again, and it wasn’t so bad this time around. The only problem was that the breeze was threatening to blow his folio out of his hand; it was unwieldy and kept thumping against his leg.

‘You want me to carry that for you?’

‘I’ve got it.’ He didn’t want Dave anywhere near his folio.

‘Suit yourself.’ A pause; Dave was only half looking at him when he spoke again. ‘So do I get to see?’

‘See what?’

‘Your _drawing_, you silly git.’

‘What? No!’

‘Arnold,’ Dave said with infinite patience, ‘it’s not like it’s anythin’ I haven’t seen before.’

‘Yes, well, you just can’t. I’m surprised the instructor didn’t kick you out for... acting up.’

‘There aren’t _that_ many people willin’ to take their clothes off for money.’

‘Dave, we’re at _art college_. I could throw a stone and hit five people from here who’d be happy to do it _without_ the money.’

Dave just laughed again and then made a sudden lunge for the folio; he’d grabbed one end of it before Arnold caught his t-shirt and yanked him sideways.

‘I said _no_!’

Those dark chocolate eyes widened, and Dave’s lower lip stuck out in his best puppy-dog pout. ‘Please?’ He was still hanging on to one end of the oversized folder, and not so subtly tugging on it.

‘You’re incorrigible,’ Arnold told him, letting go of his t-shirt and firmly removing his fingers from the folio.

Dave just gave him an insouciant smile and then dropped to one knee, fiddling with his trainer lace. Arnold sighed and walked on ahead without waiting for him; he was getting hungry, and he was running out of time to drop the folio off and eat lunch before his next class, and then very suddenly he was face-down in the grass and Dave was sitting on his back.

‘What the—’

Dave was yanking at the folio and Arnold tried to pull it under his body and Dave started _tickling_ him and Arnold yelped and rolled, trying to escape; then the handle of the folio was digging into his back and he was looking up at Dave, who was straddling his stomach and reaching down, grabbing his hands and pinning them together above his head, pressing them into the cool, slightly damp grass with one hand and pulling at the folio with the other. The look on his face was totally absorbed with what he was doing rather than his usual wide grin, and for one moment Arnold wished he could draw him like that, could capture that sudden serious look in the midst of this utter silliness.

Then Dave gave up on the folio, trapped as it was under the weight of their bodies, and just knelt there, looking down at him with that same air of absorption. Arnold gazed back, acutely aware of Dave’s legs pressed tightly either side of his body, of Dave’s fingers wrapped around his wrists, of Dave’s breath, redolent of spice and cigarettes, warm against his face. These were not things that he could capture in graphite, pin down in pencil. He could feel his heartbeat speed up but did not quite know why.

After what seemed like forever, Dave let out a short laugh and got off him. ‘I’ll get you yet,’ he threatened, holding out a hand to help Arnold up.

Arnold took it, scooping his folio up as he moved. ‘In your dreams.’

‘Every night.’ The grin on his face now was purely wicked.

‘Dave, you’re revolting.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ They were nearing the low building that housed the dining hall; Dave jerked his head towards it. ‘Comin’ to lunch?’

‘Er, no. I’ve got to put this away, I don’t want to drag it around all day.’ Arnold indicated the folio. ‘Although where I’m going to put it so you don’t find it, I don’t know.’

‘Come on man, can you blame me for wantin’ to see how other people see me?’

‘I’m not sure one drawing can really tell you that,’ Arnold found himself saying.

Dave raised an eyebrow at him curiously and then just shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I’ll get you yet,’ he repeated, peeling off in the direction of the dining hall, raising a lazy hand in a brief wave. Arnold waved in return and then continued on towards their room.

As usual their room was half messy and half neat. He’d finally given up on expecting Dave to clean up after himself and conceded that, as long as there wasn’t actually any wildlife or unusual stench in the room, that would do. He locked the door behind himself out of habit and then set the folio down on his bed while he looked around for somewhere to hide it.

It was silly, anyway. He pulled the drawing out to look at it. It might have been a drawing from life, but it didn’t show Dave the way Arnold saw him. His eyes traced the lines, a few smudged here and there where he’d rushed. This was just his physical form on paper, not the way Dave always ended up talking for at least fifteen minutes after they finally agreed to turn out the lights; not the way he thumped out of bed in the mornings as though getting up was an insufferable chore; not the way he’d come back to the room with clay all over his hands and threaten to touch things until Arnold chased him into the bathroom.

Not the way his body had felt straddling Arnold’s own.

Not the way his eyes had looked so deeply darkly focused on him as much as on the folio he was trying to steal.

Not the way his breath had been warm but his lips, inches away, had probably been warmer.

Arnold stretched out on the bed, opened his trousers, told himself firmly that he wasn’t doing this, and closed his eyes while he did, because the image on the paper didn’t matter nearly as much as the image in his mind.

Seemed like maybe Dave had gotten him after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Eyes on Your Work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/196598) by [Lauren (notalwaysweak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren)




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